


other men it is said have seen angels

by TechnicalTragedy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dead Sam, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Human Castiel, Kissing, M/M, Pie, beginning is where most angst happens, lots and lots of pie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicalTragedy/pseuds/TechnicalTragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After completing the trials, Sam dies, and Dean is left to cope. Castiel helps Dean through this trying time, but soon the tables are turned and Castiel is relying on Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	other men it is said have seen angels

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest single-chapter story I have ever written, and it wouldn't have been possible if not for my beta Writeous (frigidlyauthorial on tumblr), so I would like to thank her.
> 
> This took me around two months to write, and I, myself, am quite fond of it, so I hope you enjoy!

_Dean's hands were pressed to Sam's chest, trying to stop the bleeding, and he was praying, praying, praying to Castiel._

_"Please, Sammy, just hold on for a few more minutes. Cas'll get here and he'll work his mojo on you and you'll get all better, alright? So just, hold on. Please, Sam," Dean had begged him._

_A large hand had landed on Dean's shoulder, and the fingers of another were tilting Dean's chin up, forcing those green eyes to meet Sam's._

_"Dean," he whispered. "I'm not gonna make it."_

_Dean was already shaking his head, saying, "No, no, no."_

_Sam brought the hand on Dean's shoulder up to his face, and splayed it across the side of Dean's head. "I'm so tired, Dean. I just want it to be over."_

_"Don't talk like that, Sammy! C'mon, just hold on for me." Dean squeezed his eyes closed. "Cas, get down here already!"_

_Sam's eyes slid shut, and he exhaled slowly. "Dean, I don't want to come back this time," he murmured, and Dean's eyes flew open._

_"SAM!" he yelled, and shook his brother._

_There was no response._

_Dean shook him harder. "SAMMY!"_

_There was the sound of wings from behind Dean, and he knew it was Castiel without looking up._

_"Sam. You aren't dead. C'mon. Get up. Sam. Sammy. Please, just, open your eyes. Sam. Sam! Sammy!" Tears were rolling down Dean's face, and with a sob, he buried his face in Sam's jacket, inhaling the scent of blood and home through clogged nostrils._

_There was a hand on his shoulder, almost a reminder of but a few moments ago, when Sam had done the same thing. But this hand was more tentative, and it was warm, almost too warm._

_"He is gone, Dean," Castiel told him, as if he didn't already know._

_It was silent for a long while, with Dean's head still leaned against Sam, and Castiel's hand still laying on Dean's shoulder._

_"Where were you," Dean finally said, his voice flat._

_"Dean-" Castiel started._

_"WHERE WERE YOU?" Dean roared, shooting to his feet and whipping around to face the angel._

_Castiel was silent, staring at Dean, before his gaze went skittering away. "He was praying for me to stay away."_

_A choked sound echoed around them, and it took a second for Dean to figure out that he had made the noise. The hunter folded his arms across his chest, and looked away from Castiel._

_"Why..." he tried to start, but he found he couldn't bring himself to ask._

_"You heard him yourself, Dean," Castiel said. "He doesn't wish to come back."_

_Dean swallowed, and bit his lip hard enough to hurt, trying to fight back the tears that wanted to come._

_"What if I'm not ready to let him go?" Dean asked, his voice thick with emotion._

_Castiel reached a hand out, and gently touched Dean's shoulder again. "You can't bring him back, Dean."_

_Dean's eyes shot up to Castiel's, and he scowled. "Why the hell not?"_

_The angel's lips pressed into a tight line. "Would you do that to him, Dean? Would you bring him back when you know that he doesn't wish to come back, and force him back into this life which he never wanted to be a part of? Would you sacrifice the happiness and peace he'll find in Heaven for your own selfish desires?"_

_Dean sighed, looking away from Castiel. "No," he whispered._

_Castiel nodded. "You should get back to wherever it is you are staying, Dean. You have had a long day."_

_Dean shook his head. "Gotta bury him. Go back to Heaven, or whatever. I need to do this alone."_

_Castiel stared at him silently for a long moment, before nodding again, and taking flight._

_Dean looked at the space the angel had just occupied for several seconds, before turning to go collect his brother's corpse._

 

\- - -

 

 

Dean is drunk. More drunk than he has been in a very long time.

 

He's upturned his entire motel room, but hasn't even looked at Sam's bag, which sits in the corner of the room.

 

Now he's just sitting on his bed, head in his hands, whispering, things he would never say if he weren't totally smashed, as he is now.

 

"Was gonna let you quit, Sammy. Maybe you coulda found a nice girl, settled down. Had lotsa sasquatch babies with her. I was gonna quit, too. I'm thinking maybe I'm getting too old for hunting. Not as young as I used to be, y'know. My joints ache in the mornings, and the cold's getting to me easier. Was thinking of maybe sticking around in the bunker. 'Cause that's as close to a home as I'm gonna get. Guess I shoulda quit sooner, huh? You probably woulda wanted some house in the suburbs, yeah? White picket fence, the whole ten yards. Woulda come to visit you and your wife and sasquatch kids. But now... What am I gonna do, Sammy? Ain't got nothing left." He sighs. "Guess I was always gonna end up alone, though, right? Just like Meg said. Everybody leaves me, and it's my fault. Always my fault."

 

Dean pulls his hands away from his face, just to move them right back, but now clasped in front of his nose.

 

"Cas. I need you here, buddy."

 

Then the angel is standing in front of him, looking down at him.

 

"Dean," he says in greeting.

 

Dean's hands fly up and grab the lapels of Castiel's trench coat. He pull himself to his feet, and when Castiel opens his mouth to ask what Dean is doing, the hunter pushes forward and forces his tongue inside.

 

Castiel goes stock-still, not responding in any way except to curl his hands into fists at his sides.

 

Dean pulls away from him, and his eyes are glazed over as he says, "It's more fun if you kiss back."

 

Castiel pushes Dean back, and he lands on the bed. "I am not going to do this, Dean."

 

The green-eyed man pouts, and his hands curl into the fabric of Castiel's trench coat. "Come on, Cas. I need this. I need _you._ "

 

The angel shakes his head. "You need to sleep." He presses his fingers to Dean's forehead, and he immediately falls back onto the bed, already snoring lightly.

 

Castiel watches him sleep for a few moments, before vanishing from the trashed motel room.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

There was a young woman, once, and Castiel loved her. He doesn't remember her anymore, of course. The archangels made sure of that. But he does remember, every so often, bright eyes and full lips smiling at him. He remembers delicate fingers and long, dark hair. He remembers bronze skin and he remembers the feeling of happiness. But he never remembers enough; he never remembers too much.

 

But Castiel remembers, as clearly as if it had just happened, killing her. That was the one memory the archangels allowed him to keep, and it served as a reminder of why angels and humans did not mix.

 

He hadn't done it purposely. He would've never done it if he'd known she would be lost to him once he did. Castiel had been young and foolish and in love. He had been watching other angels finding each other, he had watched fingers carding through feathers, he had seen smiles gracing even the most solemn faces. He had wanted that. So he had attempted to get it.

 

Castiel remembers trailing his fingers across her skin, asking her if she trusted him, and smiling when she said, yes, of course she trusted him. He remembers his hand gently coming to rest over her heart, and her hand resting over where his would be. He remembers telling her to shut her eyes, and unfurling his wings once she did. He remembers ordering her to keep her eyes closed, no matter what, and that he'd tell her when to open them again. He remembers focusing, reaching his Grace towards her soul. He remembers a light building inside him, too bright, too powerful. He remembers opening his eyes and seeing light shining out of her eyes and her mouth, and blood running from the same places. He remembers the explosion of her soul inside of her body as his Grace made contact. He remembers the unbearable pain, like he was being ripped apart, disassembled, and then crushed back together.

 

Castiel remembers his eyes opening again, and seeing her laying before him as an empty husk.

 

Castiel remembers the pain of the failed Bond, and the beating of wings behind him. His arms were seized and he was dragged back to Heaven, where they made him forget, where they reset him.

 

What Castiel doesn't remember is her name, or at what point in time he met her. If he did, he might try to go back and see her. But he doesn't, so he won't.

 

Samandriel was right: too much heart has _always_ been Castiel's problem, and the Winchesters did nothing but feed the problem.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Dean enters the bunker, and breathes in the air that always seems stale. This place had once had the potential to be a home, but now that Sam is gone...

 

All Dean can see is Sam, everywhere. He's pulling a book from a shelf; he's drinking coffee at the table; he's watching Dean mess around with the sword out on display; he's smiling; he's laughing.

 

There's an ache in Dean's chest, and he closes his eyes, turning away to stare at the door.

 

He's let everybody down. His dad, Sam, Kevin, Jo and Ellen, Bobby, Cas.

 

Dean exhales slowly, trying not to think of any of that. He picks up the bags next to him on the floor, and carries one to his room, and the other he tosses carelessly through an open door, before shutting the door. He doesn't even want to look at that room right now.

 

He trudges back to his room, and flops onto the memory foam. He stares up at the ceiling for a long time, before finally shutting his eyes. He keeps laying there, until, eventually, he drifts off.

 

Dean dreams of fire and blood and fear. He dreams of a hand reaching for him. He dreams of the beating of wings. He dreams of blue eyes and a shower of sparks.

 

Dean dreams of an angel and a hunter and a brother and a happy ending.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

After two months in the bunker, Dean can't stand it anymore. It's like Sam's ghost is lurking in every room, around every corner, between the pages of the books Dean reads to take his mind off of everything. Dean hates, hates, hates it, but there's nowhere safer. Sure, there aren't any demons to come after him anymore, but there are other things out there, and they want to kill him just as much as any demon ever did.

 

Dean should leave. He can't sleep, there are always nightmares, and sometimes before he can even close his eyes he hears Sam's voice, and he searches the bunker for him, always hoping that, somehow, Sam is actually there, and he'll smile at Dean, maybe wrap him up in his gangly limbs and call him a jerk. Sam is never there, but Dean loses sleep anyway, even if it's just to get away from the nightmares for a little while.

 

Thoughts of Castiel have floated across Dean's mind. He thinks maybe he should pray to the angel, at least let him know he's alright, but there's always something that stops him.

 

One night he's sleeping, and it's one of those rare nights when he's getting actual sleep, when he shoots up in bed, suddenly fully awake, and knows he has to leave.

 

Dean checks the time. Nearly two in the morning. Perfect time, he decides.

 

He starts packing up his meager belongings, throwing all of it into a duffle bag. It doesn't take long before he's ready to leave. And leave he does.

 

Dean's breathing in the cold night air before he knows it, and he stumbles to the Impala and tosses his bag in, practically falling into the driver's seat. He can't look at the passenger's seat, can't look at Sam sitting there, smiling at him, blood dripping off of him and onto the leather. He can't do it. He needs to get away.

 

He's flying down the road, knuckles white on the steering wheel, trying to combat the tears he can feel coming, but no, no, no he can't cry, because if he cries it means Sam is really dead and he can't be dead. He can't be.

 

Suddenly Castiel is sitting beside him, in the spot where Sam should be, but Dean finds that he doesn't mind this change so much.

 

"Cas," he acknowledges.

 

"What are you doing, Dean?" the angel asks.

 

Dean shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road. "Leaving. I can't stay there anymore."

 

Castiel doesn't say anything, but Dean hears the unspoken question.

 

' _Why?_ '

 

Dean bites his lip, but doesn't provide an answer.

 

After a few minutes, Castiel says, "I should go." But he doesn't, and Dean wonders if the angel could hear him asking him to stay.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Dean wakes up in the backseat of the Impala, freezing and achy.

 

He sits up slowly, rolling his shoulders and neck, and then he notices that something is covering his lap.

 

Dean grins down at the trench coat, and ignores the fluttering sensation in his stomach.

 

Struggling to get out of the Impala, Dean doesn't notice Castiel until he nearly crashes into him. He straightens immediately, and blinks at the angel.

 

"Cas. You're still here."

 

Castiel nods, and then his hand is being pushed into Dean's chest.

 

Dean blinks down at the hand, then takes the proffered bag. He glances inside, and then up at Castiel.

 

"You got me breakfast?" Dean asks.

 

Castiel nods. "I have heard that it is customary to make breakfast when your partner awakens. I could not make you breakfast, so I acquired it from a diner you once told me you enjoyed."

 

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but then Dean's head is snapping back up to Castiel, eyes wide. "P-Partner? What the hell, Cas?!"

 

Castiel blinks at him. "Yes, partner. Wouldn't you consider us partners?"

 

Dean's mouth drops open. "No! We aren't- Cas, what are you trying to say? Do you want to be with me?"

 

Castiel tilts his head. "I _am_ with you, Dean."

 

Dean holds up a hand, backing away a step. "Wait, wait, wait. I think you may be confused about what a partner is, Cas. You make breakfast for your _romantic_ partner. We are not romantic partners."

 

Understanding dawns on Castiel's face. "Oh. I had not realized... No. I suppose we aren't romantic partners." His brow furrows. "You kissed me, once. Does that not make us-"

 

Dean's hand lowers, and he looks away from the angel. "No, Cas. That doesn't make us romantic partners."

 

Castiel nods. "Of course. I should be going." This time, he really did leave, and Dean was left standing alone with a bag of food in his hand, and the sound of furiously beating wings.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Dean leans against the Impala, staring at the gas pump. He turns towards the car and opens his mouth, about to ask Sam to go in and grab something to eat, but then he remembers, and the words die in his mouth.

 

He goes back to staring at the pump, his jaw clenches as he waits for the car to fill.

 

Finally it's done, and he slides one of his 'borrowed' credit cards into the slot. He slips into the Impala, and starts the engine, getting out of there as fast as he can.

 

He pulls over onto the shoulder of the road after he feels like he's far enough away, and he stops the car.

 

"Cas," he whispers, and then there is a flurry of wings and the angel is right beside him.

 

"Dean? You called?"

 

There is silence for a moment, and then Dean turns to Castiel. "He's really dead, isn't he. It wasn't just some fucked-up dream. He's actually gone."

 

Castiel's face softens minutely, and he hesitantly reaches out and puts a hand over Dean's. "I am sorry, Dean."

 

Dean slumps back into his seat, and stares up at the roof of the car blankly for a few moments, before quietly asking, "He's in Heaven, though. Right?"

 

Castiel nods. "I made sure of it. Your brother is perfectly happy."

 

Dean looks over at Castiel. "Really? Good. I always wanted him to be happy."

 

They sit in silence for a long while, the only noises the soft sound of Dean breathing and of the cars whooshing past every so often.

 

"I must depart, Dean," Castiel finally murmurs, as if hesitant to break the comfortable quiet.

 

Dean's hand turns underneath Castiel's and he slides his fingers between the angel's. "Don't leave," he whispers.

 

Castiel stares down at their hands, and smiles, before sitting back against the seat and gently squeezing Dean's hand.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Castiel remembers watching humanity from far away. He remembers thinking how silly and fickle they were, starting wars over such simple things as a woman being taken. He remembers his brothers telling him to stop his obsession with humans, that they weren't worth it.

 

Castiel remembers being assigned to the Winchester line. He remembers poking and prodding people in the right direction, towards the right people, to eventually create Sam and Dean. He remembers witnessing many births and watching over many of the children.

 

Castiel remembers watching over Dean when he was a child. He remembers almost smiling when Dean did something humans called cute, and standing beside Mary as she told Dean angels were watching over him. He remembers wondering if she knew how right she was.

 

Castiel remember Dean as a young adult. He remembers Dean's near-endless string of lovers, not all of them women. He remembers Dean denying who he was after the age of fifteen, pretending he didn't find males attractive. He remembers trying to let Dean know God would not judge him for that.

 

Castiel remembers everything that has happened since he was created. He remembers the fish he was told not to step on, he remembers the fall of the Roman Empire, he remembers seeing stars explode.

 

Castiel remembers travelling forwards in time, wanting to see how the story ends, and finding himself in the kitchen of a prophet named Chuck.

 

Castiel did everything. He learned every language, was taught to paint by Leonardo da Vinci, studied poetry under Shakespeare, played music with Beethoven.

 

Castiel saw the most beautiful sights any being has laid eyes on, and accomplished more than many of his brethren.

 

But what Castiel is most proud of, what he thinks is the greatest masterpiece, is Dean Winchester.

 

Castiel remembers many things. He remembers the way Dean's cheeks and nose turned red when his mother took him ice-skating. He remembers Dean smiling down at Sam for the first time. He remembers kissing the beautiful boy, leaving freckles in his wake.

 

Castiel remembers loving humanity from the very beginning of his existence, and then falling in love with humans.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

 Months pass, and Dean decides he wants to try a normal life. He holes up at Bobby's house, which is only temporary, he swears, and works towards getting his GED. He manages to convince Jody to give him a job, and she tells him it's just because she owed Bobby a favor.

 

Dean still has nightmares, but apparently he calls to Castiel in his sleep, because the angel is always there when he wakes up from them. He learned quickly that the best way to calm Dean down was to wrap his arms around him and lull him back to sleep. Most of the time he would stay and watch over Dean, but sometimes, when he had to leave, he would lay his trench coat over the ex-hunter.

 

Everything is getting better. Dean is adjusting to life without Sam, even though there's still a hole in his chest, eating at him every second of every day. It's becoming more manageable, somehow.

 

Then Castiel disappears for a while.

 

Dean's nightmares return in full force, and he slowly starts to slip back into the exhausted, restless Dean he was back in the bunker. He starts thinking about leaving, because Sam is starting to show up here, too, when Castiel finally comes back.

 

Dean is waking up from a nightmare, panicking and terrified that Sammy is being hurt, where's Sammy he can't find him, when arms are around him. He stiffens at first, and then he's relaxing, turning towards the source of the comfort. He looks up and sees Castiel and thinks he's in another nightmare, that this is a cruel joke his mind is playing on him.

 

But then the soft singing starts, and Dean forgets all about it being a nightmare, because Castiel is crooning softly, "Hey, Jude, don't be afraid..."

 

When Dean wakes up the next morning Castiel is still there. He asks where Castiel went, but the angel claims to not remember. Dean wonders if he's lying, but figures there's no way Castiel is that good of a liar. So Dean doesn't push the subject, and there is more of the same for another few weeks.

 

They disconnect all of Bobby's old phones, but, of course, a phone call ruins the slight peace they'd found.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

It's a Tuesday when Kevin calls, because what other day would it be? Dean picks up the phone he's barely touched in months, and answers it tentatively.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Dean!" Kevin practically yells down the line.

 

"Kevin? Is something wrong?" Dean asks.

 

Kevin pants, and Dean can hear the phone shifting. Kevin must be running. "Yes, something is very, very wrong. There's another tablet, Dean."

 

Dean freezes. "Another tablet?" he breathes.

 

"Yes, Dean, there's another tablet! This one is called the Angel Tablet. It supposedly closes Heaven."

 

Dean is silent for a long moment, before asking, very quietly, "Why are you telling me this?"

 

Kevin falters slightly. "Well, you wanna shut Heaven up, don't you? Get rid of all those pesky angels?"

 

Dean looks over at Castiel, who he had been teaching to make pie and who was now staring at the oven as if that would make time go by faster. "No," he said simply, and hung up the phone.

 

Dean put the phone down, and shook his head. "Cas, how much time is left on the pie?"

 

There's no answer from behind him.

 

Dean turns, and finds that the angel is gone. He stares at the space he used to occupy, and suddenly feels dread curdling in his stomach. Castiel heard about the other tablet.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Castiel is strapped to a chair in Naomi's office.

 

"You promised," he says to the angel before him.

 

"Shh! Castiel, I want you to stop thinking about master plans, Heaven and Angels," Metatron slams Castiel's head back against the chair, and keeps speaking, "and all this. That doesn't concern you anymore." The bearded angel pulls out his angel blade, and, keeping his hand on Castiel's forehead to keep him still, he slices into his neck. "These were never trials, Castiel. This is a spell. And what I'm taking from you now -- your essence, your Grace -- is the last piece." As he had been speaking, Metatron had pulled out a glass vial and held it up to Castiel's neck. The vial filled with Castiel's Grace, and Metatron put the lid back on the vial before slipping it into his pocket.

 

Castiel could feel the wound on his neck. It hurt.

 

Metatron placed his hand over the cut, and spoke again. "And now something wonderful is going to happen, for me and for you. I want you to live this new life to the fullest. Find a wife. Make babies. And when you die and your soul comes to Heaven, find me. Tell me your story." Metatron's hand returns to Castiel's forehead. "Now go."

 

A bright light fills the room, near-blinding, but Castiel's eyes stay open.

 

The next thing Castiel knows, he's waking up in a forest. He stands slowly, cautiously. Then he starts walking.

 

He emerges from the woods, and feels uneasiness settle in his gut as he looks to the sky.

 

The angels are falling.

 

And it's Castiel's fault.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Castiel stands in front of a payphone, glancing between it and the Laundromat behind it. He could call Dean...

 

But there's a machine with food in it inside, and just the sight of it sets Castiel's stomach rumbling.

 

He remembers where Dean is staying. He'll make it back to him eventually. Right now he needs food, though.

 

A half-hour later finds Castiel with food in his belly and an empty water bottle in his hand. He stares down at the water bottle, figures he could probably fill it up at water fountains he finds.

 

Castiel looks around him, and then starts walking, not really sure where he's headed, just knowing that he has to get back to Dean.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Dean is freaking out. Castiel has been gone a week, and the nightmares haven't returned yet, but that's only because he's too worried about Castiel to sleep.

 

In the back of his head, a voice whispers that he can't do this, that he can't let himself become so insanely dependent on someone again, because that road only leads to pain. But the crippling worry persists, and most days he feels almost physically sick from it.

 

It almost feels like it's something more, like his reaction shouldn't be this strong, but he ignores that feeling.

 

It's probably just that Castiel is the one person he has left, and he's gone MIA. That's definitely it.

 

Dean calls Kevin, because Kevin was who he was talking to when everything happened.

 

"Dean?" Kevin asks cautiously.

 

"Kevin?" Dean responds.

 

"Oh god, Dean. I was hoping you would call. The angels fell, Dean, that's what this freaky meteor shower is," Kevin's words are rushed, like he can't hold them in any longer.

 

Dean's blood runs cold. "Cas," he murmurs, and suddenly understands why the angel hasn't returned yet. "Do you think..." Dean trails off, but Kevin understands.

 

"He's okay, Dean. He's gotta be. He's survived this long, hasn't he? He won't die because of a silly fall," Kevin assures Dean.

 

The green-eyed man nods, then nods again. "Yeah. Say, you got anyplace to stay? I got room here at Bobby's."

 

There is a pause on Kevin's end, and then, "Really? You'd let me stay with you?"

 

Dean shrugs. "You're family, Kev. Of course I'd let you stay. Hell, I invited you, didn't I?"

 

There's another pause. "Can you tell me where this place is?"

 

Dean grins, and rattles off the address he knows practically by heart.

 

"Alright! I'll be there within the next few days, probably," Kevin says.

 

They hang up, and Dean spends a few seconds smiling at the phone.

 

He might not have Sam, but family don't end with blood, after all.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Kevin shows up after two days, with a smile on his face and a bag filled with his belongings. Dean lets him into the house and they spend a while catching up over coffee, until Dean has to get to work.

 

Kevin seems surprised. "You got a job?"

 

Dean grins. "Yup. I'm trying out this whole 'normal life' thing."

 

Kevin smiles weakly, and nods. "Okay," he says, and Dean doesn't hear the sadness in his voice, he doesn't hear Kevin mentally screaming that their lives will never be normal so _why is he trying?_ He doesn't hear _we have a chance to close Hell and Heaven, and you're choosing to ignore that and everything and be normal?_

 

Dean leaves, and so he doesn't see Kevin holding his face in his hands, wishing for everything he used to have.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Castiel is standing outside of Bobby's old house, and he knows Dean is inside, can see his shadow on the windows. But he's still outside, lingering uncertainly. His stomach is growling at him, and he feels exhaustion in every fiber of his being, but there's this feeling inside him, that if he goes in there Dean won't want him. He no longer has Grace. He's human. He's going to end up being useless to Dean, because he'll eat too much and sleep too much and won't pull his own weight.

 

It's a sense of doubt Castiel's never had before, and doesn't like.

 

He's still standing there, worrying, when the door swings open and Dean steps outside, garbage bag in hand. He catches sight of Castiel, and his free hand immediately drops to where he used to keep his knife. He curses under his breath when it isn't there, and then he really looks at the person standing there.

 

"C-Cas?" he asks, quietly, and the ex-angel swallows.

 

A bright grin takes over Dean's face, and he drops the garbage bag, rushing across the yard to Castiel, pulling him close and hugging him like he'd done in Purgatory.

 

"Where've you been, Cas? I've been praying to you, all the time. Why didn't you answer?" He backs up, holding Castiel out at arm's length, his face still glowing with happiness.

 

"I... did not hear your prayers, Dean," Castiel says.

 

This confuses Dean, and his smile fades a little. "What? Why didn't you hear them? Was I not loud enough?" Amusement crinkles his eyes again.

 

Castiel swallows again, and looks away. "Not exactly," he mumbles.

 

Dean's hands tighten on Castiel's shoulders. "Cas? What's up, buddy?"

 

After a moment, Castiel looks back up into Dean's eyes. There's concern there, and it causes Castiel's insides to clench. He takes a deep breath, and then says, quietly, "Metatron took my Grace."

 

There's a long silence, and Dean seems to be trying to piece together what that means. "You mean... You don't have your mojo anymore? What does that do to an angel? Are you still an angel?"

 

Castiel, after a second, shakes his head. "I am human," he says, simply.

 

Dean breathes slowly, and then whistles on his exhale. "Well that's... Alright, then. Why don't you come inside?"

 

Castiel blinks at him, but nods, and Dean leads him inside.

 

Dean pulls out a chair at the table, and gestures for Castiel to sit. Once he does, Dean perches on the counter. "Are you okay, Cas?"

 

This surprises the ex-angel, and he thinks about it for a moment, before shrugging. "I'm not entirely certain."

 

Dean's forehead creases in concern. "Have you been eating? Sleeping? Are you hurt at all?"

 

Castiel sighs. "I have been doing so when I can. I'm not hurt. Not really."

 

Dean goes to the fridge, and pulls out a pie tin. "I still have the pie we were making," he says quietly, and holds it out to Castiel.

 

Castiel accepts it, and starts to go at it with his hands, but Dean's cough stops him. He presses a fork into Castiel's palm, and their fingers brush as he retracts his hand.

 

There is silence as Dean watches Castiel eat, and the blue-eyed man takes his time, savoring it, appreciating it as he'd never before done.

 

"I see why you enjoy pie, Dean," Castiel says, words muffled by the food in his mouth.

 

Dean smiles, and crosses his arms over his chest. "Was hoping you would like it."

 

Castiel makes a noise of appreciation, and looks up at Dean. "Have you eaten any?"

 

Still smiling softly, Dean shakes his head. Castiel's eyes widen slightly, and he loads up the fork with another bite of pie, holding it up and cupping his hand beneath it, urging Dean closer with his head.

 

"You have to try it." The fingers beneath the fork curl slightly, beckoning Dean.

 

Dean's smile fades, and he swallows, before edging closer. He stands in front of the fork, and lays his hand over Castiel's. Hesitantly, he pulls it closer, and leans down toward it, before wrapping his lips around it and pulling the pie off the fork.

 

Castiel watches him chew, eyes wide and excited. "Do you like it?"

 

Dean nods, and looks at the pie, which is about half gone.

 

Castiel follows his gaze, and then glances back at Dean. "Would you like another bite, Dean?" There's something in his voice this time. A barely-there heat that hadn't been there before.

 

Dean's eyes meet Castiel's and he nods again.

 

Castiel carefully gets another forkful of pie, and holds it out to Dean. The procedure this time is much like it was before, except now Dean is slow, his eyes locked onto Castiel's as his tongue slips out to flatten along the bottom of the tines of the fork, and as he clamps his teeth down and slides off, chewing once more.

 

They stare at each other silently, and the air seems charged, electricity surrounding the two of them.

 

Castiel reaches forward and up, and Dean's breath catches in his throat as a finger brushes over his lip. His eyes flutter closed, and he thinks Castiel is going to kiss him.

 

When the kiss doesn't come, Dean opens his eyes, and sees the ex-angel staring at his thumb curiously. Castiel sees that Dean is looking, and sucks his thumb into his mouth.

 

Dean blinks, eyes widening. Castiel goes faintly pink, and shrugs, looking away, back towards the pie.

 

"You had crumbs on your lip," he says by way of explanation.

 

There is a strange silence, filled with words that could be said, confessions that could be made. The silence lingers, until, finally, Dean clears his throat.

 

"I should show you where you're going to be sleeping," he says, and Castiel nods.

 

Dean stands, grunting as his knees protest. He takes the pie tin, and puts it back in the fridge. He wonders if he should put it in some sort of container, but when he looks back at Castiel, he thinks he's going to pass out. With a shrug, he closes the fridge, and gestures for Castiel to follow him upstairs.

 

They stop in front of a door, and Castiel nods thankfully at Dean, before heading inside.

 

Dean leans against the door frame for a moment. "I'm gonna have to go to work in the morning," he tells Castiel. "Should be back around five. Feel free to shower, use my shampoo if you wanna. My clothes should fit you close enough, so go ahead and take your pick. Food's in the fridge. Kevin's staying here, too, so you're probably gonna run into him. I'll wash your clothes when I get back. Should do the laundry anyway. You should probably brush your teeth, too. There's an extra brush in the bathroom across the hall. Let's see, anything else?" He racks his brain, and when he can't come up with anything else, he shrugs, standing up straight. "You've got my number. I'm gonna go on to bed, now."

 

He turns, and then Castiel speaks. "Goodnight, Dean."

 

Dean pauses, and smiles. " Goodnight, Cas."

 

 

\- - -

 

 

_Dean stared down into the hole he had dug, and then looked over at the body that was waiting to go in it._

_He swallowed hard, and reached for his little brother. He needed to do this before the sun came up._

_But before he let Sam go, he pressed a hand to his chest, over the tattoo that matched his own._

_His thumb touched something hard beneath Sam's shirt, and, curious, he reached for it. It turned out to be a necklace, and he felt something inside him drop at that realization._

_He knew what it was going to be before he pulled it out, but when he saw it, it still hurt._

_The amulet Sam had given him. The one he'd thrown away._

_Sam had gotten it, and had kept it._

_Dean bowed his head, and bit his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, trying to keep the tears at bay._

_He recollects himself, and maneuvers Sam's body into the impromptu grave._

_Soon, the fire was blazing in front of him, and he was still holding the amulet in his hand._

_He knew he should burn it, make sure Sam wasn't tempted to try and come back via the amulet, but he just couldn't do it._

_That amulet was the last thing remaining of Sam, now. He couldn't just let it go._

_After a long, long while of thinking, Dean tossed the amulet into the flames, thinking of what Castiel had said before he'd left._

_Sam deserves whatever peace he may find in Heaven, and Dean won't be the person to take him from that._

\- - -

 

 

An ex-angel and a prophet of the Lord sit at a kitchen table, sharing a pie. It sounds almost like the beginning of a joke.

 

They stare at each other, one wondering when the hell his life got so crazy that sitting in a dead person's house and eating pie with an ex-angel isn't out of the ordinary at all, and the other marveling at how amazing pie is, but how it could be better.

 

Suddenly a chair is being shoved backwards and hands are being planted on the table. "Help me make a pie," Castiel commands.

 

Kevin blinks in surprise, but shrugs and nods amiably. "Sure. What kind?"

 

Castiel thinks for a moment, before setting his jaw. "Whatever Dean's favorite type is."

 

Kevin thinks for a moment. "I think it's apple."

 

Castiel straightens. "Then we will make an apple pie. We are going to make the _perfect_ pie."

 

Kevin smiles amusedly. "If you manage to make the perfect pie, I think Dean will try to jump you on the spot."

 

Castiel looks pleased. Kevin wonders if getting Dean to jump him is his plan.

 

Then another chair is being pushed back, and an advanced placement student is standing, rubbing his hands together. "Alright, so what do we have?" He figures that, hey, he watched his mother bake cakes once or twice, helped her out, too. How different could a pie be?

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Pie turns out to be very different.

 

Two men are staring at their disaster of a pie, wearing matching looks of horror.

"How did we mess up so badly?" Kevin asks quietly.

 

Castiel shakes his head. "You told me it wouldn't be that difficult."

 

They stand there for another minute or so, and when it seems to almost _move_ they both hurry to dispose of it. When the abomination is safely in the nearest neighbor's trash can, they return to the kitchen and try to come up with another game plan.

 

"Maybe we should just use the internet, at first? Then, when we get good enough at making them, we can work on perfecting the apple pie," Kevin suggests after a few moments of thinking.

 

Castiel's head snaps up from where he'd been idly drawing in the layer of flour on the counter. "You're right! Why didn't we think of that before?"

 

Kevin shrugs, and goes to try and find some sort of recipe for apple pie online.

 

He finds one that explains what to do really well, and calls Castiel over to see it.

 

After a while of studying it, Castiel smiles. "The internet truly is revolutionary."

 

Kevin nods, and carries the laptop into the kitchen so they can look off of it while they're cooking.

 

A few hours later, Castiel and Kevin have an apple pie that doesn't look like it crawled out of a laboratory, and as they stand back to admire their work, Kevin holds up his hand.

 

Castiel stares at his hand for a moment, confused. Kevin glances over at him, then rolls his eyes. He grabs Castiel's wrist, and lifts his hand up, before high-fiving him.

 

"That's called a high-five. It's what you do when you succeed at something, or it could even be used as a greeting," Kevin explains.

 

Castiel nods, filing this information away. Boy, does he have a lot to learn about being human.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

The bell over the door jingles cheerily as Dean enters the little candy shop just down the road from the station.

 

A voice calls out, from the back of the shop, "One moment!" It seems familiar to Dean. He feels like he should be able to place it, but there's just something in his mind denying that his suspicions could possibly be correct.

 

But sure enough, after a few seconds a short, smarmy-looking man shows up behind the counter.

 

"What can I get y- Dean?" Gabriel blinks in surprise, and then his eyes immediately narrow. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

 

Dean shakes his head, staring at the archangel in shock. "You're supposed to be dead!"

 

Gabriel claps mockingly. "Gold star for you, Deano! Your observation skills really are something to behold!"

 

Dean glares. "I just wanna know how the hell you're still alive."

 

Gabriel holds up a hand. "Ah-ah-ah! Not _still_ alive. I did die, and, remind me to never do that again. Bad decision on my part. As for _how_ I'm alive, well, if I'm being honest, I have no idea. I like to think it's because I'm God's favorite."

 

"Hard to imagine you'd be anyone's favorite," Dean grumbles.

 

There's a moment of awkward silence, and then, "So, what would you like to buy?" Gabriel asks.

 

Dean blinks at him, and then looks down at the sweets displayed under the glass. "Uh... What would you recommend for someone who has probably never had candy before?"

 

Gabriel gasps, "I'd recommend a therapist! What kind of sheltered- oh, you're talking about Castiel, aren't you? What are you doing still hanging around with him? Didn't all the angels fall, and it's all his fault, or something? I don't know, I haven't been keeping up with Heaven's politics. I'd imagine that they'd all be after his head, though, if what I _have_ heard is true."

 

Dean bites the inside of his lip. He wonders when Castiel was planning on telling him he probably had angels looking to kill him. He carefully keeps all of his sudden worry off of his face, and stands up straighter. "I'm not here to discuss that. I'm here to buy candy."

 

Gabriel looks amused, but nods, holding up his hands, conceding. "Alright. Well, I think Cas would like something with chocolate, probably. You should get him some fudge, probably something less heavy, too, and without chocolate. Maybe you should just get him everything, actually. Figure out what he does and doesn't like."

 

Dean grimaces. "I don't have enough money to spare on buying so much candy."

 

Gabriel waves a hand dismissively, and goes about getting Dean a bit of everything. "On the house. You just have to promise me one thing."

 

Dean is suspicious of this. That's a bit of money Gabriel would be losing.  He shrugs, though. The dude's an archangel, he could probably just summon all the money in the world if he wanted. "What?"

 

Gabriel sets a bag full of candy on the counter, and plants his hands on either side of it, glaring at Dean. "I don't know what you're doing with Castiel, but you better protect him with everything you've got. We might not be close, but he's still my brother."

 

Dean blinks in surprise. "Are you really going all over-protective older brother on me right now? It's not like me and Cas are dating, or anything."

 

Gabriel raises an eyebrow.

 

"Holy shit. You thought we were- No! No. We're not..." Dean looks away, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to will the blush creeping up his cheeks away.

 

Gabriel shakes his head. "Dean, Dean, Dean. Take your candy and get out of here."

 

Dean grabs the bag, and gets the hell out of there, Gabriel's laughter following him all the way home.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

"It amazes me that, while I can write sonnets, and compose symphonies, and paint masterpieces, I cannot do something as simple as making a pie," Castiel mutters. He shoves his hand into the bag of sweets Dean had brought him, and his hand emerges with little chocolate bits in it. He nibbles at them, trying to figure out if he likes it or not. His eyes flick back to Dean when he hears a small noise from the man.

 

"I don't know, Cas. This pie is pretty damn good. Might not look too pretty, but it's delicious," Dean assures him, words slightly muffled by his mouthful of pie.

 

Castiel smiles, faintly, and goes back to eating his chocolate.

 

Kevin watches the exchange with a tiny smile, and shakes his head. Those two are so gone on each other. He slips out of the room, feeling like an intruder.

 

The ex-angel and the ex-hunter watch each other when they think the other isn't looking, and they smile when they know they're caught. It feels strange, to Dean, playing this odd game with another man, but at the same time, it's like nothing has changed. It scares him, how normal it seems, and he realizes then that they've been at this for longer than he thought, that their game dates back to even before Castiel fell from Heaven for him. Only now is it on familiar grounds, however, because Dean knows how to do this with humans, while he never understood the intricacies of angels.

 

"Cas," he says, suddenly, surprising both himself and the man he's speaking to.

 

"Dean?" Castiel tilts his head, just slightly.

 

Dean's tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he catches Castiel's eyes following the movement. "I, uh," he attempts, before clearing his throat and looking away. "How do you like chocolate?"

 

There is a brief moment of silence. "Would you like to try it?" Castiel asks finally, his voice soft.

 

Dean nods, looking back at Castiel.

 

Castiel takes a step forward. "Like-" He glances away for a moment. "Like yesterday?" His eyes return to Dean.

 

Dean swallows, before nodding again.

 

Castiel reaches into the bag, and roots around for a moment. He pulls out a small piece of chocolate, and stands in front of Dean. He looks at Dean's mouth pointedly, and the green-eyed man parts his lips for him, extending his tongue a little. Castiel places the piece of chocolate on his tongue, deliberately running a finger over Dean's bottom lip as he pulls his hand back.

 

Dean chews slowly, keeping his eyes on Castiel, and when he swallows he opens his mouth again, silently asking for more.

 

Castiel obliges him, and there's a small voice in the back of his head that tells him that this is all he's good for anymore. What use is an angel without their Grace? It is here, in what should be a happy moment, that Castiel begins to doubt.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Castiel has doubted before. Although he doesn't realize it, even what he considered his existence before doubt was filled with doubt, too. He was made to forget that doubt, though, time and time again, so he would be Heaven's perfect soldier. Though Castiel doesn't know it, he was created to doubt.

 

Castiel has doubted many times: he's doubted his Father, his brothers and sisters, he's doubted the Winchesters, he's doubted all of humanity, even. Castiel has rarely, in all his time, found reason to doubt himself. But Dean Winchester, more than anything Castiel has experienced in his entire existence, has made him do exactly that.

 

Observing the elder Winchester brother from afar was never cause for alarm. Sure, Castiel noticed odd things about the boy, like how his eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and how, whenever it snowed, snowflakes got caught on his eyelashes, but Castiel felt that it was good to notice these things, because perhaps this knowledge of his charge would serve a purpose someday. When Castiel rebuilt Dean's body, put him back together again, his knowledge did become useful, because he knew where each individual eyelash went, and the exact color of Dean's eyes.  But as soon as Castiel saw Dean in Hell, as soon as he saw the child he had watched grow chained up, and reached out a hand to touch him, to save him, he felt the crack deep within his Grace.

 

Doubt began to seep through the crack, and Castiel was never the same again.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Castiel reads a lot, when he's not toiling away in the kitchen on his quest to create the perfect pie, and he likes  much of what he reads.

 

He reads romantic stories, stories about knights saving princesses, stories about pirates, adventure stories. He reads all of these, and it feels as if he's unlocking some door he had never known existed.

 

Castiel's favorite story is the Greek myth of Icarus, and when he reads it, he's reminded of himself. He feels as though it is an apt comparison, as he managed to escape Heaven, and drifted too close to his sun, while his brothers and sisters warned against it. The tale makes him sad, but it remains his favorite, nonetheless.

 

He enjoys poetry, as he always had before during his times spent on Earth. But being human adds a new layer to what was before simply a pleasing collection of words. Now those words stir up emotions in him, and, for some reason, it doesn't have to be a long poem with rules and lines, it could simply be a few words, telling of how the stars didn't compare to the light in your eyes.

 

Castiel finds it amusing that, while before he could write these words, had learned from Shakespeare himself how to piece these phrases together and create something magnificent, he had never before known what the words meant. He could tell you the exact definition of 'happiness' but he had never felt the word with his whole being and had never really known what it _meant._

 

With the reading, comes the writing, and now Castiel has a notebook he scribbles words down in when it's midnight and there's a cup of tea going cold near his hand and he can't sleep.

 

Words like:

 

I am Icarus,

and you are the Sun.

The closer I get to you,

the faster my wings fall apart.

But as long as I get to be near you,

any amount of pain is worth it.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Kevin announces he has a job a week or so after the Day of the First Pies, as he's come to refer to it in his head. What he fails to mention for another week or so is that his job is at Gabriel's candy store, and Dean learns about it the hard way, by stopping by to pick up sweets for Castiel and finding Kevin standing behind the counter.

 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asks immediately, wondering if Gabriel had kidnapped Kevin and was making him work the counter at his store, for some reason.

 

Kevin shrugs. "I work here," he tells Dean, and the ex-hunter's eyes widen comically.

 

"You- You _work_ here? At a candy store run by an _archangel_?"

 

Kevin frowns. "He's an archangel? I figured he was an angel, but I definitely didn't see archangel coming."

 

Dean waits for Kevin's screams, his horror, his refusal to be anywhere near Gabriel, but it never comes. "Uh. Why aren't you more freaked-out about this?"

 

Kevin's brows pull together. "He's a good enough guy, but a bit of a prankster. The pay's decent, and making all those pies with Cas made me think that I might like to get involved with making things, and Gabe lets me help out with that."

 

Dean holds up a hand for a moment. This is absolutely blowing his mind. "Wait, wait, wait. So you're telling me that not only did Gabriel not kidnap you and force you to work for him, but you're choosing to work for an archangel and are also calling him by nicknames?"

 

Kevin blinks at him. "What you're taking from this is that I called him Gabe?"

 

Dean inhales through his nose, eyes closed, then reopens his eyes and smiles. "Can I just get some candy for Cas?"

 

Kevin smiles, and sets about grabbing candies he'd noticed that Castiel had enjoyed. "Your total is $10.78," he tells Dean.

 

The man pulls out his wallet, grumbling about how 'Cas better enjoy this damn candy.'

 

Dean drives back to the house, finding Castiel in the kitchen once again, with more pies. Each one he sees looks better than the last.

 

"Damn, Cas," Dean says with a low whistle. "This is a lot of pie, dude."

 

Castiel's cheeks color, just faintly. "Well... You like pie. So, I'm learning how to make the perfect pie. For you."

 

Dean's eyes widen slightly, and he can feel himself blushing, now. "Oh, well, um, that's-that's great, Cas! But, you don't need to do all this for me, y'know? I mean, it seems like you're just sitting around here all day making pies. Soon we'll have so many that we won't have anywhere to put them! And, oh, what a waste that would be. Look at these pies, Cas. They're freakin' awesome! It'd be a damn shame if they went to waste."

 

Castiel frowns slightly. "Perhaps... We could send them with Kevin. To his new workplace. He said it was a shop that sold sweets."

 

Dean nods. "Yeah, I know. It's where I bought that candy. Speaking of," Dean tosses Castiel the bag of candies, "there you go, Cas.

 

The man's eyes light up at the bag, and he immediately opens it once it's in his hands. "Thank you, Dean," he says earnestly, before popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth. He sighs as he swallows. "Who makes this, Dean? You must let me give them my gratitude."

 

Dean crosses his arms and leans against a counter. "Gabriel makes it."

 

Castiel nearly chokes. "Gabriel the archangel?"

 

"Yeah. That Gabriel," Dean confirms. "He's running the joint, makes all the sweet stuff."

 

Castiel looks thoughtful, and not nearly as panicked as Dean thought he would be. "Can we invite him to dinner?" he asks, and now Dean is the one choking.

 

"You want to- What?! You just wanna invite the guy who _killed me over and over again_ into our home, to eat our food?"

 

Castiel blinks at him. "Our home?" His voice is soft, but then he's glaring at Dean. "Yes, Dean. That is what I want to do. And he might have done that--killed you, that is--but he also died to try and protect you, and he is my brother! Would you deny your brother entry into our home?"

 

Dean's breath catches in his throat, and he freezes up. His expression morphs into one of grief, painful and sharp. His eyes glaze over, and Castiel knows he's said the wrong thing, feeling immensely guilty.

 

The fallen angel wraps his arms around Dean, apologizing profusely into the ex-hunter's shoulder.

 

Dean starts to try and push him away, but his attempts are half-hearted, and Castiel is clinging to him like a koala.

 

"Dean, I didn't mean to bring him up. I'm sorry," he murmurs, his face now pressed into Dean's neck.

 

"You don't," Dean starts, then stops, having to swallow roughly. "You don't get to pull the brother card, Cas. Not when yours is suddenly alive and kicking again and mine is six feet under. You don't get to do that."

 

Castiel nods, removing his face from Dean's neck and pressing his cheek to Dean's, instead. "I know. I had no right to say that. I know it still hurts for you. I'm sorry."

 

Dean's hand splays across the small of Castiel's back, and he nods, feeling Castiel's stubble drag along his cheek. "You should shave," he comments absently. Dean finds it strange that he can feel Castiel's smile, but he thinks maybe he likes it.

 

Castiel turns his head, and presses a gentle kiss to Dean's jaw. Dean stiffens in Castiel's arms, his fingers dig into his back.

 

"Cas?" Dean breathes.

 

The blue-eyed man can feel his cheeks heating up, and he buries his face in Dean's shoulder.

 

"Did you just kiss me?"

 

Castiel makes a small noise. "You kissed me, once," he mumbles.

 

"Yeah, but, I was drunk and Sa- um. You know what happened," Dean finishes awkwardly.

 

Castiel sighs, and lifts his head, still blushing a little, but now he's mostly exasperated. He presses three tiny kisses along Dean's cheekbone, and his lips linger on the final one, just long enough to whisper, "They're just kisses, Dean."

 

The ex-hunter huffs. "What does that mean?"

 

Castiel smiles against his skin. "It can mean whatever you want it to mean." He disengages himself, and smiles at Dean once again, this time smaller and shyer. "I have to find something to do with these pies," he says, and turns around to go do just that.

 

After a few minutes, Dean joins him.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

"Dean?" Castiel's voice comes from the bathroom.

 

"What's up, Cas?" Dean calls back.

 

"I, uh, I seem to be having a slight issue."

 

Dean pauses in folding one of the shirts he'd gone out and gotten for Castiel, and looks in the direction of the bathroom, as if he's trying to see through the walls. "What kind of issue? Did you get your dick stuck in your zipper?"

 

"No. I just. Dean, I don't know how to shave." Castiel sounds very nearly embarrassed about it.

 

Dean sighs, and puts the shirt down, heading into the bathroom. He blinks at the foamy-looking substance on Castiel's face, then narrows his eyes at it. He swipes a finger through it, and sticks it in his mouth. He sighs again. "Did you really cover your face in whipped cream?"

 

Castiel's eyebrows knit together. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"

 

Dean laughs, and covers his face with his hand. "You're supposed to use _shaving cream,_ Cas."

 

Castiel blushes a deep red. "Oh."

 

Dean shakes his head, and grabs a washcloth from a cabinet. He wets it, and goes about wiping all of the whipped cream off of Castiel's face. "You're such a dork, Cas," he says affectionately.

 

Castiel looks confused again. "I am a penis?"

 

Dean snorts, looking up at Castiel questioningly. "A _penis_? Where'd you get that idea?"

 

"Dork is slang for penis, I have been lead to believe," Castiel supplies.

 

Dean shakes his head, chuckling, and goes back to wiping the whipped cream off of the fallen angel's face. "I'm definitely not calling you a penis, Cas. Dork means... Well, I guess it means somebody who's clueless. It's not supposed to be offensive. It's kind of an affectionate name, for when somebody's being really adorable in a really clueless kinda way."

 

Castiel makes a thoughtful noise, frowning slightly as he thinks about that.

 

Dean finishes up cleaning off Castiel's face, and then starts hunting around for the shaving cream. With a triumphant noise he stands, holding the can in his hand.

 

"Does that mean you find me adorable?" Castiel asks, suddenly.

 

Dean blinks at him, and thinks back over what he's said. He blushes a bit when he realizes that, yes, he technically did just call him adorable. "Uh. Yeah? In a clueless sorta way. Don't worry, though. Soon you'll know enough about being human that you won't seem so clueless anymore. You won't need me around for all of this."

 

Something akin to sadness flickers across Castiel's face, and he catches Dean's hand. "I'm always going to need you, Dean. I always want you to be around."

 

Dean looks up at Castiel's face, and then down at their hands. "I didn't mean it like that, Cas. I meant that, someday, you'll know enough about being human to be able to shave yourself, and fold your own clothes, and stuff like that. Even when you can do all that, though, I'm still gonna wanna be around you. I don't have much anymore. It's just you and Kevin. If I lose you..." Dean trails off, and then looks up again. He smiles weakly. "It'd be like losing half of my world."

 

They stare at each other for a few more moments, and then Dean coughs, extracting his hand from Castiel's grip, and holding up the shaving cream and a razor. "Enough of that chick-flick bullshit. Let's get you shaved."

 

They don't really talk throughout the process of Dean shaving Castiel, just the occasional, "Turn your head a little," from Dean, and a "This feels strange," from Castiel.

 

Dean steps back, and surveys his work. "You look good, Cas. Real good." He picks up the washcloth he'd wiped the whipped cream off with, and hurriedly gets the whipped cream out of it, then uses it to clean Castiel's face again. He tosses it into the sink, and runs his fingers over Castiel's jaw and under his neck, feeling for places he missed. Castiel stares at him as he does so.

 

"What was that for?" the blue-eyed man asks when Dean's fingers leave his skin.

 

"Needed to make sure I didn't miss anything," Dean tells him, setting the razor on the counter. He turns back to Castiel. "I gotta get back to folding your clothes. I'll teach you how to do that later." He hesitates, and then, before he leaves, he presses a quick kiss to Castiel's cheekbone, in the same place the man had kissed him. After he does that, he gets the hell out of dodge, feeling a blush creeping up his neck, even as he repeats 'just kisses, just kisses' over and over in his head.

 

Castiel smiles to himself, and touches the spot where he can still feel Dean's lips. A warm feeling blossoms in his chest, and although his Sun has already melted his wings, the burn is just as good now.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

There are four chairs seated around Dean's new table, and all of these chairs are currently filled.

 

A prophet of the Lord sits in one of the chairs, staring around the table with a mixture of awkwardness and nervousness. Across from the prophet, a fallen angel is steadily working his way through an entire pie, wondering how he could improve it. To the fallen angel's left, an archangel sits, three suckers shoved into his mouth. Making a disgusted face at the archangel from across the table is an ex-hunter, who might look disgusted but is honestly wondering just how many suckers the archangel could fit in his mouth.

 

It's like an awkward, dysfunctional family dinner.

 

No-one talks, and the only sounds are the wet breaths Gabriel sucks in past the candy in his mouth, and the scraping of Castiel's fork on the pie tin.

 

When Castiel's pie is completely gone, he hums thoughtfully, and leans back in his chair. "Do you make pies, Gabriel?"

 

Gabriel glances over at him, and tries to say something, but almost ends up spitting all over him instead, so with a thought the suckers have disappeared and he's replying, "Yeah I make pies. What kinda person do you take me for?"

 

"Not much of one, since you're an archangel," Dean mumbles, and Gabriel frowns at him.

 

"Why all the hostility, Deano?" Gabriel seems to be honestly confused.

 

"We don't exactly have the best history. You did kill me countless times, and you trapped me and Sam in TV Land, too," Dean reminds him.

 

Gabriel sits up a little straighter in his chair. "And then I _died_ for you and provided you with a way to trap Lucifer back in his cage! Or have you already forgotten about all of that? And, speaking of your brother, where is he?"

 

Silence immediately falls over the table at Gabriel's words, and now everyone is looking at Dean, Kevin and Castiel gauging his reaction, and Gabriel wanting an answer.

 

Dean's jaw clenches, and he looks down at the table, breathing sharply. "He's dead, Gabriel," he says shortly.

 

There's more silence, and then, "Oh." Gabriel's voice is soft. "That's, uh. That's really unfortunate."

 

Dean clears his throat. "Yeah."

 

There's more awkward silence, and then Gabriel is pushing himself to his feet, backing away from the table. "Well, I enjoyed this, but I should be going now. See you next time you need candy, Dean, and Kevin, I'll see you at work tomorrow." He pushes his chair in and shows himself to the door, materializing another sucker and sticking it in his mouth as he goes.

 

Kevin and Castiel watch him leave, and then their gazes return to Dean, who's still staring down at the table.

 

After a few moments, Kevin gets up, too, and with some hurried excuse about needing to be up early tomorrow, he's disappearing up the stairs. As soon as he's gone, Dean's entire body sags, and Castiel is up in a moment, wrapping his arms around his hunter and just holding him.

 

They don't talk for a long time, and when they finally do, it's just Dean, asking, "If I brought him back, do you think he'd hate me?"

 

Castiel doesn't have an answer for him, so he just hugs Dean tighter, and presses a kiss into his hair.

 

"Cas?" Dean asks, after a few more moments of silent hugging.

 

Castiel makes a soft noise of acknowledgement.

 

"Can you..." Dean swallowed. "Would you kiss me? For real?"

 

"What do you mean? Am I not kissing you for real?" Castiel kisses the top of Dean's head again.

 

"I mean. Would you kiss me on the lips? A real kiss."

 

Castiel pauses, and then pulls away just enough to look Dean in the eyes.

 

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

 

Dean swallows, then nods jerkily. "Yeah."

 

Castiel searches his face, trying to find something, but apparently whatever he sees is okay, because he leans closer, until Dean can feel the fallen angel's breath on his lips.

 

"Are you sure, Dean?" Castiel murmurs.

 

Neither of them make a move for a few moments, and then Dean closes the scant remaining space between them and catches Castiel's lips with his own.

 

Unlike the last kiss, there is no tongue in this one. It's soft and warm and chaste, and when they pull away they're both left with a warmth in their chests.

 

"Thanks, Cas," Dean whispers against his mouth, and presses another, lighter kiss to his lips. "Thank you so much."

 

"There is no need to thank me, Dean," Castiel whispers back. "This is something I can do, at least."

 

Dean's eyes open at that, and he leans away from Castiel to be able to look him in the face. "Wait. What do you mean by that?"

 

Castiel looks away, and starts to shuffle backwards, trying not to answer Dean's question.

 

"Hey." Dean catches his wrist. "What did you mean by that? Do you think that, that now that you're human you can't do anything?"

 

Castiel swallows, and settles his gaze on Dean's. "In the past, whenever I've been weak I've been of no use to you. I suppose I'm just lucky that you haven't kicked me out already. But now, I'm... I'm reminding you about my weakness, my worthlessness, and I'm going to have to leave again."

 

Dean blinks up at him, surprised and disbelieving.

 

"I should've known," Castiel continues miserably. "I didn't mean that much to you when I was still an angel, when I still had power and worth. Now that I'm human I'm even more useless. I'm sorry, Dean. I think I've overstayed my welcome. I'll just... I'll leave."

 

Castiel pries Dean's hand off of his arm, and drags his feet as he leaves, Dean watching him in shock.

 

The door closing behind Castiel is what snaps Dean out of it, and he jumps to his feet, running to the door and slamming it open, shouting, "Cas!"

 

The man looks up, his blue eyes looking empty.

 

The words 'I love you, don't leave, please' are on the tip of Dean's tongue, but all he can do is make a choked noise.

 

Castiel looks away, and starts to walk away again, but Dean hurries out to him, grabbing him by the elbow and spinning him around, wrapping his arms around him and whispering, "We're family. We need you. I need you."

 

They stand there for a long time, until Castiel slowly returns the hug.

 

"I'm sorry, Dean," he mumbles, and the ex-hunter shakes his head.

 

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Cas. You aren't useless, or worthless. I know how you're feeling right now, and none of it is true, I promise you," Dean tells him fiercely.

 

There is an even longer silence, wherein Castiel pushes his face into Dean's neck.

 

"Stay," Dean says, but it sounds like a plea.

 

Castiel nods, and his hands clutch at the back of Dean's shirt.

 

Dean swallows, and nods back, tightening his grip on his angel and silently swearing to never let him go.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Charlie calls a week later, saying she'd stopped by the bunker but nobody was there, so she'd decided to call one of the numbers Dean had given her.

 

She visits Bobby's house a week later.

 

When Dean tells Charlie about Sam, she nearly cries, and she asks how he's been holding it together.

 

Dean looks over at Castiel, making yet another pie, and tells her he's had a little bit of help.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

One day, when Dean takes Charlie to town to show her around while she's staying, leaving Castiel alone in the house with nothing left to do, he picks up one of their laptops and tracks down a thing called 'Google Earth,' which he'd been hearing much about.

 

Castiel explores the planet he's now bound to with this application, and finds himself in awe. He wants to go to all of these places, to feel new soil underneath bare feet, to stand on a cliff, knowing that he could take a step and die, but getting a rush of adrenaline from that knowledge. He realizes he could do that. He could travel everywhere if he wished.

 

He smiles, and though before he'd had wings, he's never felt quite as much like a free bird as he does now.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

When Dean and Charlie return home later that day, Castiel greets them in what has become a customary manner.

 

He kisses Dean hello, smiles at Charlie and takes her coat, then asks them to set out plates for dinner, which he's spent the last while cooking. Dean chuckles at him, murmurs something to Charlie about a 'housewife,' but does as Castiel asks.

 

All through dinner, Castiel feels like there are wings fluttering inside of him, like his heart is a bird trapped inside his ribcage, trying to escape from his chest. Only Dean notices his odd behavior, and worry blankets him.

 

After the dishes are put away and the 'kids' are in bed, Castiel asks Dean if they can talk.

 

"Cas, are you okay? You've been acting pretty weird tonight." Dean hopes his anxiety isn't evident in his voice, but, as always, Castiel sees straight through him, and takes his hand, running his fingers soothingly over Dean's rough skin.

 

"I'm okay, Dean. Everything is fine. I just..." he trails off, and seems to be thinking about how to word whatever it is he wants to say. "I want to see the world," Cas finally settles on, and he looks up at Dean through his lashes.

 

Dean blinks at him, and feels relief spread through his system. "Oh. That's all? Oh. Yeah, that's. Okay. So, where do you want to go?"

 

Castiel's whole being seems to light up, and he's clinging to Dean's fingers, excitement dancing in his eyes. "There are so many beautiful places on this planet, Dean. I want to see as many as I can. I want to go to Aogashima Volcano and the Galapagos Islands and the Giant's Causeway and Ha Long Bay and Fingal's Cave and Saint Lucia and Bali and there are so many others, Dean! We could see them all, you and I, and if you wanted we could bring Kevin and Charlie, but Dean, this world is so, so magnificent and I want to see it!"

 

Dean nods along with him, not knowing what he's talking about, but caught up in his enthusiasm. He snaps out of it, and grimaces slightly, hurrying to hide it, but Castiel caught it.

 

His soaring spirits sink a little, and his eyes get large and sad. "What is it?"

 

"Cas, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but all of those trips would cost a lot of money, and money's not exactly flowing out of our asses right now," Dean tells him, hating the crestfallen look that sweeps over Castiel's face.

 

"Oh," Castiel breathes, and his shoulders sag. "I didn't think about that. But, but is there a way for me to see it? Could I, one day?" Hope has returned to Castiel's eyes.

 

Dean hesitates before answering. "Maybe someday. Not all at once, though."

 

Castiel nods, looking down. "Okay, Dean."

 

There is a long silence, before Dean says, "You said something about the Galapagos Islands? Maybe we could send you there for a few days, sometime soon?"

 

Castiel's head whips up, and that childlike exuberance is back. "Really?!"

 

Dean's smile is just a little tight as he nods, already thinking about how he could make that fit into his budget.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

A week later Dean tells Castiel he booked a flight for him.

 

In a month's time, the fallen angel will be headed to the Galapagos Islands, and for some reason that knowledge makes Dean feel empty inside.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

The next month is filled with Castiel worrying and packing and repacking and making pies and visiting Gabriel and fixing dinner and learning to drive and saying goodbye for now to Charlie and kissing Dean and hugging Dean and sleeping with Dean and cuddling Dean and fu-

 

The next month is very busy for Castiel.

 

Before Castiel leaves, Dean pulls him into the kitchen, wanting to talk.

 

The two stare at each other silently for a while, and Dean opens his mouth once, but nothing comes out.

 

"I have to go, Dean," Castiel tells him, but he hurries to add on, "I promise to return to you."

 

"Why?" is all that Dean can think to say, past the voices clamoring for attention in his head, telling him that everyone will always leave him, and that even Castiel isn't an exception.

 

"I have this... urge, beneath my skin, and it wants for travel, it wants to see the world," Castiel tries to explain the need to Dean, but knows he's fallen flat.

 

"You promised you wouldn't leave," Dean murmurs absently, feeling like his world is being ripped apart again, by the very same hands that had put it back together. It's odd. Castiel will only be gone a few days. How much can change in such a small space of time? _Everything,_ his mind supplies.

 

"I swear on my life that I will be back, that I'll keep contact," Castiel insists.

 

"We've seen how much value you place on your life when it comes to..." Me, he doesn't say, but his angel hears it.

 

"Then I swear on your life, because your life means everything to me."

 

Dean looks up at him, and finally nods, not speaking for fear of his voice breaking apart and shattering on the floor.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Castiel leaves two days later.

 

Dean doesn't watch him go.

 

 

\- - -

 

 

Castiel returns after a day, and Dean is overwhelmingly relieved at seeing him, so he says, "Trip was shorter than I expected."

 

Castiel smiles at him, and puts his bags down. "I made it as far as the airport, and slept there overnight, because when I was about to get on the plane, I saw a woman run into a man's arms, and when they looked at each other I thought maybe they'd hang the stars for one another."

 

Dean is confused. "Why are you telling me this?"

 

Castiel cradles his hunter's face in his hands. Those hands that have killed and healed and cared and held. "Because that's when I realized that I didn't need to see all of the Earth. You're my whole world, Dean. You and this little niche we've carved out for ourselves with our tiny family."

 

Dean feels like he's drowning, and his smile is like the watery winter sun. "You're so cheesy."

 

Castiel grins back at him. "You love it."

 

Dean bumps his forehead into his angel's. "I love _you._ "

 

"And I, you, Dean Winchester," Castiel tells him.

 

When they finally return to their family, which consists of Gabriel and Kevin, talking about something with Charlie over the phone, there are smiles all around, and while Dean still feels his brother's loss like a part of himself is missing, he thinks maybe Sam would be proud of the man he's becoming, and hopes that, wherever he is, his Sammy is happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a quote, and the full quote is:
> 
> “You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough.” - George Augustus Moore.
> 
> I hope you liked it!


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